two pieces of a failed star
by fantasmefantastic
Summary: Collection of college!fic drabbles. Angsty Captain Swan. 3. Because it was Emma and he loved her and any scrape of attention she gave him he picked up and held close to his heart. Every glance, every text message, every kiss, every touch was kept and locked away and loved.
1. killianness

**title: **killianness**  
><strong>**pairing: **college!captain swan. hints of outlaw queen & snowing.**  
>author's note: <strong>I AM OBSESSED WITH ONCE UPON A TIME AND CAPTAIN SWAN. INSPIRATION STRUCK AND I WROTE THIS AND THEN I WAS LIKE LOL, WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS? THEN I REMEMBERED THIS SITE EXISTED. YEP. Also, suuuuper drunk!Emma.**  
>disclaimer: <strong>I do not own Once Upon a Time.

* * *

><p>Emma Swan was drunk.<p>

Never mind the fact that everyone else in his house was shit faced—it was the first weekend back from winter break, after all—but, really, Emma was _drunk_.

She could barely keep her eyes open, and walking in a straight line was out of the question. Killian had just settled her at a table with Will and Ruby, who were shouting the lyrics to the song that blared across the speakers. All around the bar, Killian's friends were in varying states of drunkenness.

Regina and Robin were going at it in the booths—seriously, he could see tongue.

Mary Margaret was dominating the darts board, a drunk David whooping loudly as he cheered her on.

Jefferson and Belle—who had shocked Killian with her ability to slam tequila shots—had their heads together in another booth, probably talking books, or psychology, or some other thing scholarly people did.

"These people are our friends," Elsa sighed, appearing next to him. She and Killian had somehow managed to not get falling down drunk, and maintain a level of _mostly sober._

Mostly Sober Killian's eyes saw tracked Emma as she laughed at something Ruby said, her blonde hair falling across her face. Killian's fingers itched to reach out and smooth it back. It was a cold January evening, so Emma had worn one of her thousand leather jackets to the bar. But inside, full of bodies and dancing and shouting, she'd quickly gotten too warm and discarded the jacket, revealing a low cut, sparkly silver shirt.

Killian was a fan of that.

He had watched her all night long, watched her slam shots of tequila and drain cups of beer, their group sucking down pitcher after pitcher. Killian nursed at his beer, watching as Emma reached out and stole Jefferson's hat, promptly depositing it on her own head. Jealousy didn't even bother to flicker through him anymore, he knew Emma was just friends with all of the guys.

(And she was his.)

"Are you having fun, lurking in the corner, staring at her?" Elsa asked him.

Killian shot her a look, "Listen, Blue, you can stop your judging anytime now."

Elsa laughed, shaking her head at the stupid nickname he'd given her.

* * *

><p>An hour later and, somehow, the absurd group of people Killian called his friends, had made their way back to the guys' house. It was something of a ritual, to pregame at the girls', then head to the bars, then finish off the evening at the guys', usually with a late night pizza order.<p>

"Suck on that, sucka!" Emma laughed maniacally, having defeated David _again_ in Mario Kart. She really was a demon in the game, and Killian had no idea why David insisted he could beat her, when he never did. He supposed it had something to do with their close brother-sister relationship, but thinking about brothers hurt, so Killian turned his thoughts away from _that_.

Elsa was smirking at him again, and Killian scowled at her smugness.

"Ooooh, wonder where you two are going!" Ruby snickered, as Robin and Regina got to their feet and walked out of the living room.

"Don't be a loner, cover your boner!" Will called after them.

"Don't be a joker, wrap your poker!" Jefferson hollered.

"Fuck off!" Regina's voice shouted back at them, carrying down the stairs, before there was a resounding slam of a door closing.

"You two are _stupid_," Emma drawled, which elected a round of laughs from everyone in the room.

It didn't take long for Mary Margaret and David to follow Regina and Robin's lead, but no one dared calling lewd comments after them. Something about their presence had always been rather parent-like, so they managed to avoid the stupid jokes the guys threw at Regina and Robin.

The game station was switched off and somebody put on some random TV show that Killian didn't care about, because he was still watching Emma.

She had been avoiding him all night, awkwardly talking-but-not-really-talking to him. He was surprised at how much it annoyed him, her disinterest. Hadn't they had fun last semester? Hadn't he pleased her?

After months of build up, talking late into the night, the occasional drunk make out session, stolen kisses, Emma had—finally, finally—fallen into his bed. They'd spent many a night devising schemes to sneak her into his room, or to get him into hers, without their friends finding out. It had always been fun, had been the best sex of his life because, damn, Emma Swan knew what she was doing in the bedroom.

But, suddenly, tonight, she was deciding to be _weird_ about it.

Emma stumbled to her feet and wandered off to the kitchen, in search of something to drink. Killian, persuaded to do so by the alcohol burning in his veins, stood and followed. When Emma closed the fridge and turned around, she let out a little yelp, startled that he was there.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she groaned, rubbing her chest like her heart was about to leap out of it.

Killian grinned—he loved the dirty sailor mouth she had. Some guys groaned about their girl swearing, but Emma dropped curse words and made it sexy.

"Warn a girl next time, will you?" she muttered, opening the bottle of water and taking a sip.

"You're avoiding me," he accused her.

She paused, shooting him a bleary-eyed look, "Didn't think you would notice."

"I notice everything about you, love."

He had intended for that line to make her smile, but instead she just frowned at the water bottle in her hand. Shaking her head, Emma pushed it aside, and reached for another beer.

Killian gently pried it from her fingers. "Don't you think you've had enough?"

Emma scowled at him, and he tried not to grin. Grumpy Emma was one of the most adorable things in the entire world. She mumbled something about not telling her what to do, and then pushed his shoulder so he was forced to take a few steps back from her.

"Go over there," she ordered.

"What?" Killian laughed, taking a step towards her.

"_No_," she groaned, frantically waving her hands at him, as if to ward off his presence. "Just go stand over…there. Away from me."

Killian quickly took several steps back, still grinning at her.

"Better?"

She took a deep breath, "Yes."

"Can I ask why I have to stand over here when I _really_ want to stand over there?"

Emma glowered at him. "I am very _very _drunk."

Killian arched an eyebrow at her, "Yeah, I picked up on that…"

"And you know what," Emma continued, as if he hadn't said anything. "Drunk Emma just can't deal with all your…" she waved her hands in his general direction. "…_Killianness."_

He couldn't help it, he laughed. "_Killianness?"_

"Yes," Emma groaned, and he knew she would die of embarrassment if she remembered any of this in the morning. "With your stupid gorgeous face, and your smelling so fucking good, and being stupidly charming, and calling me 'love,' just like every other girl…" She trailed off, waving her hands, as if that was supposed to make any sense.

Killian frowned at her, "Swan_._"

Her eyes, bleary from the tequila and beer, still beautiful in their green color, found his, and she focused on him.

"I do not call over girls 'love'," he told her. Doubt flashed through her eyes and she frowned at him again. "Emma, I promise."

He could actually see her struggle to believe him. Hurt flickered through him, and he wished that, someday, she could believe the words he said, without a trace of doubt. (He didn't exactly blame her though, he'd spent his first semester at Misthaven _charming_ his way through many a girl.) (That might have had something to do with the ugly break up he'd had with Milah before his transfer.) (But, whatever, he wasn't about to tell Emma any of that.)

With a small sigh, Killian decided to change tact.

"You think I'm charming?" he teased her.

"_Shut up_."

Killian couldn't help it, he laughed again. A tiny part of his brain warned him that this was dangerous, that what Emma just said meant _something big. _Another part of his brain told him he should quit being a little bitch and admit that he actually adored everything about Emma Swan, that he wanted more than just sex from her, that he should take it slow, woo her, show her how much he _really _cared.

But he didn't listen, because he couldn't resist her.

(He never could.)

Killian took a step closer.

"Do you remember, over break, when I said I had a list of things I missed about you?" he asked her.

Emma scowled at him, and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like _charming_. Except she hissed it out, like it was worse than a curse word, without responding to his question.

Killian plowed on, taking another step closer to her.

"Your hair," he said. "I missed touching it, especially when it's all snarled and curly."

She scowled at him, but he took another small step towards her.

"Your eyes, the way they light up when you get all excited."

He drew closer to her.

"Your _body_."

(Because he couldn't lie about that.)

"The way you twist your lips to the side when you're concentrating."

Emma regarded him warily, like a caged predator trying to figure out the best way to go for the jugular.

"How competitive you get over Mario Kart."

He chuckled at this one, finally closing the gap between them.

"The way you look at me."

God, that one was real. She looked at him like he was everything; those green eyes made him feel so wanted, so safe, so _alive._

"The way you kiss me."

Trying to guess what her reaction would be, Killian lowered his head and pressed his lips against her own. Emma immediately tensed up, and he pulled back, but she followed, as if their lips were magnets, and soon they were devouring each other, right in the middle of his kitchen.

"_Ahem_," came an awkward, clearing of the throat.

Emma and Killian sprang apart, only to find Elsa standing at the edge of the kitchen, a smug look plastered across her face.

Killian wasn't stupid. He knew that Emma and Elsa were best friends, and that Emma had most definitely told her about their…er…_encounters_ back before winter break. Elsa wasn't blind, she'd seen Killian's lust for Emma from the beginning, and Emma's vain attempts to ignore her own draw to Killian.

"Really?" was all Elsa said, her eyebrow spiked up.

Shit. Killian didn't want her to think he was taking advantage of Drunk Emma.

"I, um, uh..."

Smooth, Jones, really.

"_Elsa_," Emma groaned. "He's got all the Killianness."

Elsa rolled her eyes and said, rather affectionately, "That's probably because he _is _Killian, Emma. Anyway, Belle and Ruby are ready to go. You want to walk back with us?"

Emma nodded and, without a second look back at Killian, followed four of her six housemates out the door, back into the chilly January air.

Killian groaned, falling back against the counter.

What the fuck was he doing?

* * *

><p>I am freakishly obsessed with college!captain swan. Is that weird?<p>

Probably a little.

This will be fun.

(insert evil purple devil emoji here)


	2. sober epilogues

**title: **sober epilogues **  
>pairing: <strong>captain swan (umofcourse)**  
>author's note:<strong> lol it is 2:30 a.m. and i should definitely be sleeping yet, here we are. i would consider this a sequel to 'killianness' as it sort of flows with that one shot. but whatevs, you decide. MORE COLLEGE!CAPTAIN SWAN. ALSO SMUT. LOTS OF SMUT. **  
>disclaimer: <strong>I do not own Once Upon a time.

* * *

><p>It was safe to say that Emma Swan had literally no idea what was happening.<p>

She stared at the blank Word document in front of her, vainly trying to come up with _something _to start on her term paper for her Social Economic Justice class. Because, really, this paper was 30% of her grade and she _had _to do well on it.

But she just couldn't focus.

_Killian was coming to visit._

Emma slammed her laptop shut and pushed away from her desk in disgust. The blonde crawled onto her bed and laid down, allowing herself to wallow. She stared up at the ceiling, imagining Killian's face, his eyes, his voice, calling out to her—_Emma, love, it's been too long_.

When Killian, Mary Margaret, Regina, David, and Robin had graduated last year, Emma's heart had been torn into several pieces. One piece she kept with her, at Misthaven University, in the house with blue shutters, where they had all lived together.

Another went off to Boston with David and Mary Margaret—her adoptive brother, who had taken over guardianship of her when he turned 18, and his life long girlfriend, were huge parts of Emma's life. They had been the first people she had really bonded with, the first people her lonely, lost girl self had let in after years in the foster care system.

The last piece, she was loathe to admit, had gone with Killian Jones, into the Navy, as a commissioned officer. (They had all poked great fun at him for that.) (Killian Jones, a Navy officer? In what freaking world did that happen?) But Killian had done it, and Emma had gone _months _without seeing him.

"Emma Swan, I do believe you are pining for Killian Jones."

"Shut up," Emma groaned, burying her face into her pillow, as her best friend sauntered into the room.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Elsa asked.

"July," Emma replied.

(It was October.)

Elsa let out a low whistle, "And he just decided to come visit, did he?"

Emma shrugged, "I guess he's done with basic training, so he gets a few days off before he gets his first assignment. I think? I don't know, he tried to explain it to me, but I kind of stopped listening."

Elsa chuckled; sometimes Emma had the attention span of a humming bird.

"He's supposed to come over around 8," Emma said, in a very small voice.

Elsa immediately glanced at the clock: 7:40. She then looked back at her best friend since freshmen year, and realized that Emma—_Emma Swan_—was actually _nervous._

"Emma," Elsa said, gently. "You know Killian is crazy about you."

"A lot can happen in four months," was Emma's muttered response.

Elsa smiled, "Do you really think if he met anyone worth knowing, he would immediately come to visit you?" Emma had no response to that, so Elsa patted her hand, comfortingly. "You really missed him, didn't you?"

Emma just groaned in response. Elsa just laughed a little, and decided to leave her friend in peace. She parted with an affectionate kiss on Emma's forehead, and then sauntered from the room. Emma laid there with her eyes shut for a while, before she glanced at the clock again.

7:51.

Suddenly, Emma's phone buzzed in her hand. Startled, she checked it.

_I'm here – Killian _

"ELSA!" Emma shouted. "He's _early!_"

* * *

><p>"<em>Swan<em>," Killian greeted, like a dying man laying his eyes on water. A grin broke across his face, and his eyes—the beautiful blue eyes Emma remembered—crinkled at the edges, and he swept into the room, gathered her in his arms, and kissed her.

_Really _kissed her.

(God, Emma had missed those lips.)

"Jones," Emma greeted, when they broke apart.

Killian grinned at her, "Did you miss me?" Emma rolled her eyes and didn't answer. Instead, she ushered him inside and shut the door, but not before he could offer a single rose, with a smirk on his face like _yeah you know I'm a romantic. _

Emma took it, flushing red to the roots of her hair, as familiar voices called from the kitchen.

"Look at Mr. Fancy Naval Officer, come back to visit the lowly people from his beginnings!" Ruby shouted. Killian snickered and said his hellos as Emma searched for a vase.

(Typically, they did not have one. That would have been something Mary Margaret provided. Instead, Emma located an empty bottle of Bacardi Rum, and stuck the rose in that.)

"Oh! Is this Emma's boyfriend? Wait, not-boyfriend, right? Because that's a college thing, to have a not-boyfriend. Hi, Emma's not-boyfriend! My name is Anna, I'm Elsa's sister. I took Mary Margaret's old room."

Emma would have been embarrassed if it was anyone other than Anna. Somewhere between her good-natured chatter, freckles, and long, ginger hair, Anna became too adorable to ever get mad at. Killian seemed to pick up on this as well, and just laughed and shook her hand.

"As much as I love being referred to as Emma's," he said. "You can call me Killian."

"Hi, Killian!" Anna chirruped, becoming.

"Hey, Blue," Killian said, spotting Elsa coming down the stairs.

"Oh Lord, look what the cat dragged in," was his greeting, but they just grinned at each other. Killian, in his pursuit of Emma, had found quite a good friend in Elsa.

"Is that Killian?" called Belle's voice, from upstairs.

"Aye, that it would be!"

(Emma rolled her eyes at the vocabulary.)

There was a clatter as Belle came down the stairs, and threw her arms around Killian in a tight hug. They laughed as they said their hellos, and Emma gladly shared the man she had ached for with her friends for a little while. They sat in the living and shared stories, filling Killian in on what he had missed. He charmed Anna and Tink (who had taken Regina's room) almost effortlessly.

Around 9:30, Killian turned to her and asked, "May I have a tour of the house?"

"You've been here a thousand times," Belle accused him.

"Surely it must look different without Mary Margaret's sense of hominess," Killian shot back, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"Shut up," Emma ordered him, and led the way to her room. Killian walked past her into the bedroom he was so familiar with, and Emma followed, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Emma was overwhelmed suddenly, by the sight of him standing in the middle of her bedroom. It called up a memory from almost a year ago, of him standing there, arms spread, a desperate look on his face. _Anything you want from me, Emma Swan, you can have_.

Before Emma could say anything, Killian's arms were around her and he was crushing her to him, and then his mouth found hers and they were kissing—kissing wildly, passionately, longingly—like two pieces of a broken thing coming together to create something beautiful.

"I missed you," he whispered, throatily, resting his forehead against hers.

"I missed you, too," was all she could manage back before she captured his mouth with her own.

Emma had never been very good with words.

Her kisses became deeper, more forceful, more demanding. She striped off his jacket, tossed it on the floor, gently nudged him towards her bed. When his knees backed into it, she pushed him down on it, kissing all the way.

He went willingly, completely subdued to her command.

"_Emma_," he groaned, as her lips pressed against his neck, her teeth scraping against his skin. He almost died as she slid off his lap, and onto her knees on the floor. The suggestive gleam in her eyes made him want to explode, and he immediately undid his slacks at her request. Before he could even sit down, she took him in her mouth, and he couldn't even say her name anymore, he just _moaned_.

She played with him, with her tongue, in ways that no other girl had ever done before. Killian groaned again as she worked him, his hands tangling in her hair (which he knew she loved).

After a while, she came up for air, and kissed him again. Killian realized he was completely under spell. Emma pulled him down on top of her—Holy fuck he was turned on by her dominance—and rolled her hips against his.

"Say my name," she demanded.

"_Emma_," he complied, immediately. It was a low, strangled whisper, a husky moan that revealed just how badly he wanted her. She moaned, clearly loving _that_.

Killian chuckled a little at her ego. In between kisses and nipping her neck he whispered, "You are the sexiest thing alive." He yanked off her shirt, undid her bra, and lovingly caressed her chest. "You are so fucking beautiful." His hand traced down her stomach lightly, teasingly, before he dove into her warm, wet folds. "And you are all mine."

Her breath hitched immediately as she moaned, "_Killian_."

"Mhm, I love how wet you are," he teased, playing with her. She groaned in response as he started kissing his way down her stomach. As he got closer to her center, her panting increased, she started begging him for it.

"Oh, you want it?" he teased, his lips at her mound.

"_Killian_," was her response, her eyes already closed in anticipation.

Killian closed his eyes as he buried his tongue inside her. Her hips bucked against him, but he held them down, firmly in place. He could feel her thighs—hard from working out, from running—tighten against him. Her hands wound through his hair as she cried out. He licked and played over and over until she came twice, riding out a wave that he couldn't see, groaning his name like it was being squeezed out of her lungs.

"Okay, definitely time to fuck me," she panted, which made him laugh a little.

Killian was hard as rock, long and rigid, as she waited for him to slip off his pants. He paused as he hovered above her, drinking in the sight. She was completely naked, her hair a mess from sweat and his hands. Emma couldn't quite sit still, she was so turned on, but she looked up at him, and he felt like he was the only person in the entire world.

"Fuck," he groaned, as he entered her. He slid in easily; she was so wet for him, which only made him want her even more. He started to pump against her, their breathing hitched and difficult, his forehead pressed into the nape her neck.

Emma's hands skirted along his shoulders, down his back, lightly over his butt. She worked against him, and he felt every curve, every crevice of her body. When he had sex with her, she was alive and wild, and it made it a thousand times better.

Emma came for a third time just before him, which sent him over the edge. He collapsed against her body, his forehead resting against the nape of her neck, as the aftershocks rolled through him. Emma playfully nipped at his ear and he groaned as he rolled off of her.

"Fuck," he said again, which made her laugh. In their typical fashion, she handed him the box of tissues and they cleaned up. While he cleaned himself off, Emma slid back into her black panties and put on a baggy T-shirt lying nearby. He pulled on his boxers, and settled on his back on the bed, pulling her against him. She went willingly, and cuddled into her shoulder, twining her leg with his.

Lying there, in Killian's arms, Emma realized nothing had felt so right in a long time.

* * *

><p>The next day, Emma woke to a piercing blue gaze.<p>

"Are you watching me sleep?" she mumbled at him, rubbing at her eyes.

"Maybe," Killian replied.

"Weirdo," she shot back, rolling over in an attempt to avoid daylight a little longer. But Killian would not allow her to go back to sleep, and decided to wake her up the best way he knew how.

(Morning sex had always been a thing for him.)

Afterwards they lay together, Emma curled against his chest, Killian's arm draped across her shoulders. His rough hands painted lines on her arm, and they reveled in the quiet of being together.

"Emma?"

"Mhm?"

"I never stopped thinking about you," Killian said, honestly. "In four months, not a day went by where I did not think of you."

Emma's blonde head tilted, and she rested her chin on his chest, able to look into his eyes.

"Good," she said, with a smirk.

Killian chuckled, pressing a kiss to her blonde curls. They were quiet for a little while longer, before the words burst forth from Killian's lips, like a damn breaking loose.

"Emma, I'm going to be stationed out of Boston," he said, quite suddenly, quickly, as if he were afraid she would spook.

Emma's head came up, "What? Killian that's—that's amazing! You'll be with David and Mary Margaret."

And Boston was only two hours away.

Killian took a deep breath and took the plunge.

"So, since I'll be close," he began, awkwardly. "And you'll be…around. Visiting your brother, I mean. Maybe we…maybe we could attempt the whole…relationship thing," he finished, lamely.

Emma looked at him again, eyebrows raised.

"Killian Jones," she teased, "are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"It would appear so," Killian replied, with a sigh.

Emma kissed him, "I guess that wouldn't be _so _bad."

"…is that a yes?"

"Yes, you idiot."

* * *

><p>DID YOU LIKE HOW I WORKED IN THOSE SCENES THERE, DID YA?<p>

This is literally my first time writing smut, and I am not quite sure how I feel about it but, hey, whatever.

COLLEGE!CAPTAIN SWAN 4 LYFE.


	3. gravity

**title:** gravity  
><strong>pairing:<strong> captain swan. hints of rumpbelle, snowing, outlaw queen. (Because I am fantasmefantastic, and what else would I do?)  
><strong>author's note:<strong> ANGSTTTT. THIS IS ALL ANGSTTTT. This is literally titled 'angstttt' in my Doc Manager. I hate reading angst, so I don't know why I wrote this, but I did, and now I need chocolate and a bottle of wine while I cry. I tried present tense, and let me tell you that shit was WEIRD. So, if there's a mistake along those lines, I apologize, 'cause this is new to me.  
><strong>disclaimer: <strong>I do not own Once Upon a Time. If I did, shit like this would never happen. Also, I do now own The Seven Realms Series, from which the title of this drabble collection comes from.

* * *

><p>Killian could feel Emma watching him from across the room.<p>

He is not going to fidget.

He is not going to look back.

He is going to keep staring at the screen.

(Yeah, he isn't paying any attention to this movie.)

He has been avoiding her all night. She walked in and said hello to everyone, and he said hello back, and that was the extent of their interaction. She sits in Robin's living room, among their friends, watching a stupid movie, like they do every other Tuesday night, making jokes, complaining about school—and he is pretending she is not there.

David and Mary Margaret are snuggled together on the couch. Robin sits in his usual recliner, with Regina on his lap. Will and Jefferson are stretched out on the floor, Ruby sits between them, her back up against the couch. Belle sits behind her friend, playfully braiding her hair, with Emma on the other side.

Emma Swan, who is watching him.

He knows she is wondering why he isn't sitting next to her.

She is discreet. The others don't notice. But he does. Every few minutes that (beautiful) blonde head tilts oh-so-slightly to the left, and those (gorgeous) green eyes flit across the room, to land on him.

Those eyes are gravity, to him.

Killian closes his eyes and lets out a quiet sigh—if it was heavy, Ruby would immediately be on him, "Why are you sighing like that?" "What's the matter?" "Nobody sighs like that without something being wrong!"—and it would all be downhill from there.

This is a battle for him. This is _hard _for him.

The easy thing to do would be to look back at her, to joke with her, to tease her. It would be easy to fall into their old pattern, to pretend to say goodnight, then sneak over to her apartment later. It would be like breathing, taking her face in his hands, kissing her, letting her devour him.

But he just—he just can't anymore.

A drunk kiss at the beginning of the semester ("Hey, you know what would be a great idea? If you kissed the girl you've been in love with for two years right now!" – Alcohol) had led to many a night together.

Once, he'd been brave and asked her, _"Emma, is this just sex for you?"_ She hadn't been able to look at him when she said, _"I—I'm a mess right now. I'm not in a good place. I'll get back to you on that one."_

He'd eaten it up of course; because it was Emma and he loved her and any scrape of attention she gave him he picked up and held close to his heart. Every glance, every text message, every kiss, every touch was kept and locked and loved, deep inside him.

Deep enough so she couldn't see it.

Or did she? Did she know how he felt? Had he hidden it so well?

Killian resists the urge to tear his hair out.

Questions like that, questions about Emma, always wondering if she cares about him as more than a friend, more than a fuck buddy, are driving him insane. He spends nights lying awake, thinking about her, wondering if she is thinking about him. He questions everything she says, everything she does. Half the time, he begs for her attention. Half the time, he acts aloof and distant, uncaring either way.

And he just can't do it anymore.

Finally, the movie ends, and Killian makes his escape.

"Well, I'm off," he says, getting to his feet and stretching.

"This early?" Belle asks. "Are you feeling all right?"

(Damn, these women friends of his, always caring and asking questions.)

"I'm fine," he says, tossing her his best smirk. "Got Gold's final in the morning, you know." He winks at her, and she flushes—Belle's on again off again relationship with the handsome psychology professor is a constant topic of discussion amongst the college students.

Right on cue, Ruby squeals, "How is that going, by the way? What are you going to do over summer break?"

Belle stammers something back, and Will cracks a stupid joke, and Mary Margaret scolds him.

And Killian slips out the door.

The early spring air still has a chill to it, so he adjusts the collar of his leather jacket and starts towards the apartment he and David share. David would probably stay with Mary Margaret that night, and Killian tries not let jealousy surge through him.

He'd never wanted someone to stay with, before Emma.

He is starting to think of his life in two phases: Before Emma and After Emma. Hating that he sounds like a bloody romantic, Killian scowls as he checks the street (deserted by this time of night) and starts across.

"Killian!" calls a voice, and he freezes as the sound of heeled boots striking the pavement in quick succession—she's running after him—echoes through the empty street. "Killian, wait!"

He turns.

Emma Swan jogs up to him, slowing to a stop just before she crashes into him. He catches her scent—cinnamon, as always—and tries not to breathe it in. Her nose is pink in the cold, her blonde hair falls around her shoulders, effortlessly messy, her eyes are bright as she peers at him.

"Are you all right?" she asks.

_No_.

"I'm fine."

She arches one eyebrow at him. "Right, how about the truth now?"

"Emma, I'm fine, really."

_ Liar._

He can see her starting to get annoyed with him.

"You barely spoke to me tonight. Hell, you barely looked at me," she complains.

"I didn't realize that was in my job description," he spits back at her.

This time its confusion that flickers through her eyes.

"Why are you angry with me?" she asks, softly.

He shrugs, "I'm just tired. Finals and all."

"Killian—,"

"Emma," he interrupts. "I just—I don't really want to talk to you right now."

He turns his back on her and starts walking away, hunching his shoulders against the cold, against the pain.

(The cold lessens—the pain does not.)

"What?" Emma replies, bewildered. She starts after him, reaches out and grabs his elbow. "Talk to me," she begs.

"God, Emma, are you blind?" Killian finally snaps, tearing his arm from her grasp. Emma flinches away, startled by his sudden outburst. "I am _crazy _about you! I have always been crazy about you. Everything about you is amazing and perfect and _drives me insane." _

Her mouth drops open, utterly shocked.

"And this," he waves his hands between them. "I can't do this anymore! I am losing my mind trying to understand yours."

"You've always understood me better than anyone," she says, quietly.

"Not when it comes to this! Not when it comes to _me_!" Killian practically shouts at her. "And I know you have feelings for me, I know you do—because otherwise, why would you keep coming back to me? You could have any guy you wanted, but it's _me _you always come to. But you acting like you don't—"

He cuts himself off, runs a hand through his hair, tries to calm down, tries to compose himself.

"I thought I was strong enough," he says, quietly now. "I thought I could be whatever you needed me to be, but it turns out I can't—it turns out I fucking love you, and you can't love me, and I—I can't do this anymore. "

Emma is looking at him with utter sadness in her eyes, but there are no tears. There is no anger, there are no accusations. There is no denial.

_Say I'm wrong. __Call me insane. __Tell me you love me._

_ Please._

But she doesn't, and Killian knows—_knows_—that he's right.

She can't love him back.

(Not right now anyway.)

He takes her face in his hands—one last time—and presses a kiss to her lips—light, gentle—and she kisses him back—she understands, she always has.

"I love you, Emma Swan."

"Killian—,"

But he is walking away, and Emma is watching him go.

* * *

><p>WHAAATT JUUSSTT HAPPENEDDD<p>

(Although I am a fan of this whole professor!Gold student!Belle thing, hm...)


End file.
